I cringe at the phrase “millennial generation.” Something about it, maybe even the way it rolls off the tongue, just doesn’t feel right.

Yet, everyone born between 1982 and 2002 is subject to that label.

A glance at the book “Millennials Rising” will tell you that the millennial generation is typically a well-behaved and optimistic bunch. These students witnessed the shift from car phone to cell phone, and from desktop to laptop. Technology is an omnipresent part of their lives. Yet, there is one possession my peers own in greater frequency than an iPod – a day planner.

This is a lifestyle that has its roots not merely in high school tennis practice, but can be traced back to childhood.

David Brooks’ “The Organization Kid,” an April 2001 article in The Atlantic Monthly, reminded readers of a childhood experience most millenials never had: Our parents’ generation would go outside and play with other kids on the block. Kids of the same age would congregate in parks and backyards often with little supervision.

Our generation didn’t have “playtime,” we had “playdates.” Play was scheduled, no longer allowed to form organically. This mentality was deeply ingrained in the lives of millennials.

This generation pushed through high school watching admissions standards rise with each passing year. Not only must applicants present academic excellence but they must be “well-rounded” – that infamous, ambiguous term which inspired a generation of resume-builders.

There was no time for “play.” Once in college, the lives of the millennials stayed consistent.

Students sleep four hours on a good night. Time with friends must be scheduled sometimes weeks ahead.

Many NU students lead quintessential millennial lives. NU is full of pre-professionals who will tooth and claw to be “well-rounded.” The quarter system further normalizes a fast-paced and competitive lifestyle. My peers nearly feel forced to walk with their palm-pilots as an extension of their hand just to keep up.

Value is derived from accomplishment and not from virtue.

NU’s administration unwittingly buys into this regimented lifestyle. I would estimate that 90 percent of the attempts to address the now ubiquitous concern over NU’s community have involved programming. There are events for new students, old students, and those in-between.

There are concerts, barbeques, and speakers – each their own college version of a “playdate.”

Now imagine that everyday between noon to 1 p.m. nothing formal was scheduled. No classes, no events, no meetings. Nada.

The lack of commitments would enable students to bond free of obligation. Several graduate programs already do this, why not NU? The only thing needed to increase NU’s community points is a break.

I resign myself to my millennial status and check my Outlook calendar one last time before class.

Busy day.